The thrill here is quicker than you'd think,the way in some jet-lagged bar they’re pouring the winefrom over their heads and then sit back down again.Four times is once too much for luckand that's how many times the clock struck.I wandered home saying your name.

The arches here were built 'cause they don't fall;the cathedrals to make you feel small,that you might find your small soul.But leave the preaching to the president.The crowd cheers. His eyes get wet.I'm full as it isso don't feed me more.

You'll be having my head big as a birthday'cause I left all my doubts on the airplane.I didn't know I'm not in control.I didn't know I'm not invincible.

Now maybe some things are better left unsaidbut if you wanted to test that out- well, yeah, I guess you couldn’t have said.But there were nights in bars that I recallyour breath was courage laced with alcoholand you leaned in and said,"Make music with the chatter in hereand whisper all the notes in my ears."I didn't know the weight of my tongue.I didn't know what I'd done.

The lights here are softer than you’d think.The dim-lit peacocks in the treesAre hiding their eyes and their beauty, like me.But if my eyes were on my backI know what I’d be looking atthrough every shade of browns and greens.I didn’t know it was nothing new.I didn’t know it was you.

The Story I Heard

Hey you, JoJo-Yeah, I know your name.I thought I saw youjump a Utah trainbut I could not say.

I heard you tried toput your hat on a shelf-married a woman,went off and loved someone else.It could be as well.I cannot tell.

Hey you JoJo-don't you forget your name.They might try to keep youfrom the man you have been,so don't go that way.

The story I heardis that people are bored,and the measures you taketo wrestle with your lord,all the money you take,all the memories you spill-will He measure your time?will He measure your will?

One of these morningswill be the loudest you hear.You'll write your story on firecracker paper,and disappear.

The story I heardis that people are bored,and the measures you takejust to wrestle your lordare the measures you fakewhether you’re dead or just still-will He measure your time?will He measure your will?

One of these morningswe'll be home

Paint or Pollen

Don't move an inch.Listen for a singinghitting in your bones like they were forks.If you hear what I hear,don't just sit there.We are only strumming wateron this most unlikely chord.

You got blown shore to shore,not quite sailing,riding on the trade-winds of age.Things blow in.Don't just cast them.You say it now, what you want to stay.

I was once on a long boat,star-mapping the night routes,lightening the loadjust in case.Things float in to be taken.If you don't know by now, what will stay?

So don't move an inch.Don't move a single second,until the shade behind your thoughts is not confused.'Cause I’ve felt your itch.I know the scent as well as any,clotting your gardenof paint or pollen,brick in your mortar,pedals to soak in,on the cracks,thicker or finer,milk in your water,black in your primer,wood in your brush,now I am your cloth,whatever you want-the best is upon us.It’s a finicky musewith only potentialto choose.

Poor Boy

Poor boy,why don't you try getting water?Poor boy,why don't you try getting sleep?I think if one of us is going to suffer,why shouldn't it be me?

Poor boy,your wife is in hard labor.The rhythm you knowis pulsing and drifting to the grave.When you come toyou'll be asking yourself one question:Was I always this way?

Think back a year,when everything stood at the surfacebut bandage your cuts 'cause you don't know what swims underneath.

Hold tight,the bondage of this life is slippingand why shouldn't it be me?

When I come backyou'll be the brightest starin the black.When there are daysyou want the call we're all waiting for,think back.

Poor boy,your wife is in hard labor.Go buy the flowers you'll leave on its grave.You went with a goal of movement,now one thing is different:you don't want to change.I don't want to change.

One Red Thread

From the first that the line got drawnit was poisoning the land it was on.One red thread through the middle of a song,my only one.

I can remember the age that I wasbut not the story that pumped in my bloodwhen you were the saviorand I was the taker of.Oh, where I was…

But man, you can do what you want.The only line that is true is the line you're from.

I have to say there was a mile or twoI had the itch to fly and I flew.Now at best we would make our dreamswith something used.

From the minute that the line got drawn,I couldn't see straight to you for nothing.Now me, I'm the poisoning one.

But man, you can do what you want.The only line that is true is the line you're from.

Go On, Say It

Picking up sound on the interstate,I am my breath,letting in waves.

There will be time when the sleep I'm incovers me whole,covers me thin.

I know I'll wake up old,forgetting which box this is in.How I will keep youjust how I left you.

Our daughter once told me I know a lot.Now I'm strutting off with more than I've got.A hitchhiker told me I don't talk a lot.It made me feel fine, made me quiet.

If you’d of said it rightinstead of painting words white...How I will keep youjust how I left you.Come on, say it right.

Two Towns from Me

Remember the worldliving in the halfthat you cannot see.Been walking a line,the thinning tide,and stepping in too deep.Watching water thread my sleeves,what’d I pull from underneath?

We'll tie it down,wait it outand hope our memories hold.A lead-white naildriven downa hundred years ago.Feeling wheels on my old road,Feeling bought for what I sold.I had a dream you were two towns from me-got to sleep, spent the whole night running.

Diving gullswet their breathand live in between.Hollow bonesknowing bothwhat they want and what they need.How I want that mystery.Let me dive 'till I believe.

I had a dream we were nothing more thancaught up in our own lives, honey.

I Buried a Bone

I buried a bone.And darling, you don't know him.

Just where you aremight be the right place.It might be that sweet spacebut you don't know.

Now look me in the head-I got nothing on my mind.I've been waiting for youall this time.

I've seen a path turn to an old road,but the secret's too slowor we're too fast.

Now look me in the mouth-I've got nothing in my smile.I've been waiting for you,you're just my style.

Look me in the gut-I've got fear for my own name.I'd dig it up for youif you do the same

Things I Cannot Recall

In your old roomwhere we caught youstepping through some old songthat you said came fromwhere you’re going-a lady read it in you palmdown at the 12th ave. market.Now promise you will not forget,you are going'till it's gone.

The screen went bluebefore I touched youand my ride went home.All the photos came out lonelybut we were not alone,talking of everything we could not hold.I was stupid, thinking of east coast already.Now it's gone.

There are things I cannot forget.I wish none had happened yet.There are some things I cannot forget.

We were stronger than the preachers.We were wiser than the law.We took off sleeping by the riverand the beaches in your car-up where you taught me how to drive a stickand told me your family secret.You were scared.I was caught.

Why'd you stay behindpacking for the trip?Why'd you ask me to be the onefirst through your lips?I was awkward and I could not hearyour body through my body's fear-we were going to hell.

There are things I cannot recall.There are some things that would risk it all.Now these are the things we cannot recall on.These are the things I cannot recall.

The Bitter End

If ever you should die I know I'll shave my head.It’s not a morbid thought- I mean it out of love.

Come back, daddy,come back to the bitter end.Come back, daddyhounds-tooth coats and vitamins.

If ever the sea claims our cities on the coast,before the last bridge blows I know I will propose.

Come back, baby,armed with paddles in your hands.Come back, baby,come back to the bitter end.

The soil on the spade will be my love and hurt.The cell-phone satellites will hurl to the earth.

But in the moon,there is half of our shadow on.From in the womb,there are strange sounds on the waterfrontAnd it takes a monkto lose it all.

Come back, baby,come back to the bitter end.Come back everything that caught up in the plans.

Come back, baby,come back to the bitter end.Come back everything that put salt in the sand.

3 Rounds and a Sound

They're playing our song.They're playing our song.Can you see the lights?Can you hear the hum of our song?

I hope they get it right.I hope we dance tonightbefore we get it wrong.

And the seasonswill change us newbut you're the best I've known-and you know me,I could not be stuck on youif it weren't true.

I was swimming.My eyes were dark'till you woke meand told me that openingwas just the start.It was.

Now I see you, 'till kingdom comeyou're the one I wantto see me for allthe stupid shit I've done.

Soil and six feet under,kept just like we werebefore you knew you'd know me.Now you know me.

Blooming up from the ground,3 rounds and a sound,like whispering, "you know me.You know me."

So this was our song.This was our song.I still see the lights.I can see them.

And the crisscrossof what is true won't get to us'cause you know me-I could not give up on you...wouldn’t feel true.

And the fog ofwhat is rightwon't cover us'cause you know me-I could not give up a fight...wouldn’t feel right.

Soil and six feet under,kept just like we werebefore you knew you'd know me.Now you know me.

Blooming up from the ground,3 rounds and a sound,like whispering, "you know me.You know me."